The Weight
by HorribleDreamsOfANightmare
Summary: A USxUK fic that runs a bit slow. It starts off from when America is a small boy and follows his timeline as he's dealing with this mysterious weight that can never leave a country's figure once it's created. It's T for now. :3
1. A Weighted Visit

The sun rose over the large victorian house out near the land bridge in Caersws, the small rays dancing gleefully along the water of the Severn River that flowed without a care through the town. The lazy water strode down, making a light noise to the otherwise quiet morning as the first streams of the sun's light stretched into the windows of the stone house that sat idly by, awaiting the caresses from the sun to warm it. The curtains we're being drawn inside the house, one by one, each a light rose color to match the decor on the inside as well as the outside.

A window silently creaked open, creating one of the many new sounds to be created on this new humid morning. Doors silently clicked against their frames, closing the rest of the house out. Silent shoes stopped in front of a table at the entrance to the house, a pen was opened, paper placed on the table and the hand that gripped the pen wrote fuliently, dotting her I's with ease. Finally, the brown door opened, and the woman stepped out, a trenchcoat covering her uniform, black boots hiding her feet. She turned, facing the day with a small, tired smile, and began walking the four miles back to her home, but not without a goodbye, however silent it was.

"Goodbye, Arthur, I'll see you next week, be nice to Alfred, will you?"

Finally, the sun rose high enough to warm the stone victorian style balcony that rested above the door. The slider doors, curtains pulled back ever so slightly, were the next to be graced with the warmth. The glass was located farther to the left of the balcony, freshly cleaned, but never luminescent. The small rays entered the opening in the curtains, sliding into the dark room like a child with a horrendous curiosity for the unknown. It danced into the room, the small invisible dust particles that littered the air became alive and began their dance with the early morning rays as they stretched about the room, finally resting upon a pale face.

The boy was small, no more than ten or twelve years, but he was mature in many ways. He was merely visiting Caersws and was not a full time resident like the one he was staying with, the one who slept soundlessly next to him, the one his arms held onto and his head rested on.

Long black eyelashes fluttered against the pale cheeks resting below them, blinking the sleeping boy to the awakening world. At last, the birds outside began chirping, their attempts at song becoming more beautiful, yet all the more annoying.

Pale blue eyes, crusted with sleep, opened, gazing hazily around the room as blond strands of straight hair fell to block their view. Black bags rested underneath them, yet again he hadn't gotten much sleep. The boy made a moaning sound from the base of his throat before pushing the hair away. He didn't nessicarily like waking up early, he knew it would easily become routiene after a while, but as of right now, he was just so tired. His eyelids slipped shut yet again as his pillow heaved a sigh, the early signs of joining the world's awakening.

A hand found the boys hair, stroking back and forth, comforting him, lulling him back to sleep.

"Love," a small whisper began. "Love, are you awake?"

The boy's hands gripped at the blankets surrounding his pillow that had made the vibrations, that was stroking his hair.

More hair fell into the boy's face, tickling his nose, making him twitch it upwards.

The free hand of his pillow came to brush that piece of hair away, "Love, come on, I know you're awake."

The boy opened his eyes, resting them halfway, and he heaved a sigh. The hand that had brushed the hair away came to rest its fingertips underneath the boy's blue eyes.

"You didn't sleep, did you?"

"How could I?" The boy asked, his voice hoarse with unuse. "the weight was too much... I don't think I can do this..."

The pillow sighed, "Alfred, I understand it's hard, I do, but you must realise that this is your responsibility now. I can't be there to hold you up anymore, you need to learn how to handle this yourself."

Alfred's eyes began to burn as he pushed himself up on weak shaking arms, he wasn't about to lose this fight, "Handle this myself? The only reason I came here was to get _away_ from it all! To _relax_ for a few goddamn days! Is that too much to ask for? Well? Is it?" He stared at his brother, blue eyes boaring into green.

His brother sat up on his forearms, sighing as he did so, "Listen, Love, I understand how you feel. I went through it, too, you're not alone, I promise."

Alfred's arms shook, "then why... do I feel like the weight is too much...? Why can't I hold it all on my own like Francis and you do...? Even Mathew can hold it better than I can... Am I just... weaker than all of you? What's wrong with me, Arthur...?"

He didn't realize he had said his brother's name aloud, but Arthur let it slide, this was hard for him, "You just haven't gotten used to the flow of things yet, Love. It'll come in time, don't worry too much about it."

He sat up completely, the blanket that covered his torso falling clumsily at his waist and continued, "You look exhausted, perhaps you should sleep in today, I worry for your health."

Alfred straightened, "No, I'll be fine, besides, I'm already awake."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up on two unsteady legs, his arms out for balance. Arthur watched, muscles tense as he took a step, his body shaking with the effort of simply moving with the weight on his shoulders. It concerned him, no one like them has ever experienced something like this before, at least, not this extreme.

The second step, if a bit bolder and more proud, proved to be his downfall. His body shook violently and he stumbled to the floor, falling face first into the hardwood floor, his forehead making immediate contact with it.

A horrific thud echoed the room as Arthur sprung up to help the boy up, his arms grasping at the forearm of the shaking individual before him.

"_No!_" he cried, slamming his fist into the floor. Arthur jolted, surprised by the sudden outburst.

"I can _do_ this..."

Slowly, but surely, Alfred began to rise, the hands of Arthur positioned in front and behind him, just in case. Alfred scoffed at him, receiving a smirk from the older figure, as his shaking legs brought him to a standing position; and for the first time in two years, Alfred began to hold his head up. Automatically, his shoulders drew back as well, even if his shoulders and legs were still shaking terribly.

"Love, are you alright?" Arthur asked, rising beside the younger boy beside him.

Alfred looked at him and nodded, "Y-yeah, don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Let's just... get to breakfast okay?"

Arthur nodded, "Emily!"

"Emily, where are you?" Alfred shot him a look.

"Isn't it Saturday?" Arthur's eyes widened a bit.

"Saturday? As in the 17th?"

Alfred's left blond eyebrow rose, "Yeah, why?"

"Oh, no... I've got a meeting today."

Alfred's eyebrows pulled together, "You mean you'll be gone again?"

Arthur looked at the young boy, so innocent, so strong, "Listen, if you promise to be good, I'll take you with me."

The boy's eyes lit up, "Really? No way!"

He hugged the man, "Thank you, Iggy! Thank you!"

"Iggy? What's with this Iggy nonsense?"

Alfred smiled, "Hehe, nothing, just a nickname!"

Arthur looked at him, bewildered, but he smiled, "Go on, go downstairs, I'll make you breakfast."

Alfred's face went pale, "H-how bout I make breakfast for us today?"

"That's... unusal, but if you insist."

"Oh, I do! I love cooking! Let me go start!"

Alfred dashed down the stairs.

_"oh, thank God_...," he thought as he walked into the kitchen and turned on the stove. "_If I couldn't stomach it last time... there's no way I'll be able to this time, espically when I'm so..._" His thought trailed leaving empty space as he began to make eggs for two.

Ten minutes passed and the two were sitting across from eachother at a very long table.

"Can't we shorten the length of the table?" Alfred asked, playing with his eggs. "or get a round one? This is ridiculous."

"A round table? That's a stupid idea," Arthur deadpanned. "Who on earth would have a round table in a royal family?"

"Well, everyone where I'm from has a round table..."

"That's because they're pesants, when you finally become like me and have Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses, you'll understand."

"I... suppose so..."

Silence engulfed the room and the weight on Alfred's shoulders got a bit heavier with each passing second. He finally realized that he was completely destroying his breakfast and went to go throw it out. He found food repulsive all of a sudden and couldn't really pull his mind away from the weight. Arthur soon followed suit, only he just placed his plate in the sink on top of Alfred's.

"We've got some time before the meeting, so after we dress, would you like to hear some music?"

Alfred nodded, "yes, of course." He was always a fan of music, espically Arthur's. The way he so easily put random things together on the piano just made Alfred smile, even when the weight was too much.

That's one of the reasons he came to Britain to see Arthur, so he could listen to his music and watch his hands.

He loved watching his hands as they moved so effortlessly over the keys. The way his fingertips lightly tapped the white surface before pushing down then shifting and repeating the rythem again. How the keys so easily created a perfect sound that echoed and vibrated into Alfred's ears, becoming his whole world for those short minutes...

"Love?"

The simple word snapped him out of his trance as Arthur put a hand on his shoulder, "Are you alright, Love? You look a bit pale..."

"Who, me? Oh, don't worry about me, I'll be fine," Alfred said, forcing a smile.

Arthur nodded with a snide thought, _"says the boy who can't sleep._" Arthur stayed back a for a few seconds to watch Alfred walk up the stairs, each step upward almost dragged down by gravity and the weight. Each stair seemed so hard for him, just watching him made Arthur remember what it was like when _he_ was dealing with the weight. It wasn't unbearable, it wasn't like Alfred's, it wasn't light either, but it wasn't as heavy as his. His legs shook with the effort to keep himself standing and Arthur wondered if he should just make him stay home and baby him until he becomes accustomed to the weight, which... he possibly couldn't...

Arthur shook his head, quickly, violently. He wouldn't think like that, Alfred is a strong boy, his country has promise and it always will.

Arthur mumbled the name of the country located across the sea so quietly it was but a whisper in the wind of the morning, "...America."

Alfred seemed to loose his paitence, waiting at the top of the stairs, but he held his tongue, watching as Arthur's eyes slowly dropped to the floor, unusually large eyebrows creasing upwards as they drew down over his eyes. He didn't seem strong when he was like this, and Alfred hated it. He hated seeing Arthur sad, he hated hearing about the horrible things happening in his country, he hated seeing him so... weighed down.

If anyone was to play the defenseless, trapped, lonely child, it should be him, not Arthur.

Never Arthur.

Alfred closed his blue eyes tightly and turned his head to the side, refusing to watch his idol fall under the weight.

"Hey, Love," Arthur began as he ascended the long stairs to Alfred's position. "Don't worry about anything... You don't need to worry about anything, I'll always be here to protect you, and I'll always be here when you need me, alright?"

Arthur took the young boy's hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze and kissed his forehead gently.

Alfred pouted, "hmph, soon enough I won't need protection."

He looked up at Arthur and his eyes sparkled with each work that escaped his lips, "Someday... _I'll_ be the _Hero,_ just wait, you'll see. Then if _you_ ever need help, _I'll_ be here to protect you and _I'll_ be here when _you_ need me."

Arthur smiled so warmly it would melt even the coldest ice, "Yes, I know. You're destined for great things, Love, and don't you dare let anyone else tell you otherwise." He turned his head toward the bay window, the sun resting over his features in a soft, godlike way, "I'll be waiting for the day when you come to my rescue, Love."

Oh, how Alfred wished he could really mean those words that he had just said, but, sadly, he knew that as long as the weight kept him tied to the ground with chains twice his weight, he'd never rise up and stand on the pedistal Arthur always put him on. He didn't even know why he said those things to Arthur, why he lied right in front of his face. He knew he'd never be able to take those words back...

...Why couldn't he just be the hero? Just once? Just once he'd like to protect someone from something, or scoop someone up in his arms and tell him that everything would be alright, that nothing would ever hurt them, or dare to harm them, or even say a single _threat_ to them. He wanted to be like Arthur.

He wanted to protect him so much, to tell him that he'd take care of everything for once, that he could stand on his own without using Arthur as a krutch.

Finally, Alfred tore his eyes away from the golden figure in front of him and walked into their room to change, Arthur trailing behind.

{~:-|-:~}

"Hey, hey, hey, hold on a second, let me warm up first," Arthur said with a smile as Alfred began to pester him to play for the twelfth time.

"Alright, but hurry, we have to leave soon and because you're so conceded and vain in the morning you take way too long so we _never_ have enough time to do what we want to in the morning," Alfred whined. Arthur laughed, a smile breaking out over his usually worried expression, and that made Alfred smile. All he wanted was for Arthur to be happy, and if this was how he'd make him happy, he'd stay stupid and immature for the rest of his life, even if he had to act.

"Alright, anything in particular you want me to play?"

Arthur's hands skillfully climbed up each scale, shifting to the sharp notes then down back to the netural.

Alfred named the scales he knew silently in his head, "G... A... C..."

"Love?"

"Oh, sorry. No nothing specific, just... play will you, please?"

Arthur smiled and stopped his scales and flexed his hands before hitting notes in a way that always made Alfred get chills. The chills that ran seductivly down his spine, traveling down his arms and reaching his fingertips forced him to close his eyes each time. Oh, how he loved the sweet sound of the piano, but, what striked him as odd was that the key was in minor, instead of the usual major that he's been so accustomed to.

Alfred opened his eyes, "Arthur?"

The music stopped short, Arthrur having jumped at the sudden sound of Alfred's voice, "Love? What's wrong?"

"That's what I was going to ask you..."

Arthur looked at him, large eyebrows creasing upwards, "Why? Why were you going to ask me that?"

"Well... you're playing in a minor key instead of a major and I got worried, so I was just wondering if you were sad or anything like that..."

"Minor... and... Major...? You mean you know the difference?"

Alfred blinked, "Of course I know the difference, why wouldn't I?"

Arthur turned his head away, "Nothing's wrong, don't worry about it alright?"

Alfred crossed his arms over his chest, "What's wrong?"

Arthur stood up, closing the lip to the piano, his face was hard and he meant business.

"Nothing is wrong. Nothing that you could ever understand anyways so just mind your own business, okay, Alfred?"

Alfred's face twisted and his eyebrows show down, turing his eyes dark, "What wouldn't I understand? I'm old enough to understand when something's wrong with you, Arthur, and I know that there's something seriously wrong. You never play in a minor key and I'm seriously worried here. Can't you just tell-"

"Alfred please!"

Arthur's voice echoed throughout the empty home, sending Alfred's eyes wide as he stared down at the floor.

Alfred's eyes scanned the floor frantically, trying to muster up the courage to say something... to say _anyting._

"Go get your coat. We're leaving now."

Alfred's eyes slowly lifted, staring at the green fire filled ones that were glaring down at him underneath bushy eyebrows.

He didn't say anything and Arthur took that as a defiance, "Right now, Alfred. Go get your coat."

Alfred nodded and began to walk down the hall.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, you know..." He said, softly, "Please don't make me go back with a bad image of you... Please stop being so harsh with me... I don't want to go back having two weights on my shoulders..."

Arthur's shoulders slumped, "Alfred... you have to understand that there are somethings that you could never understand..."

Alfred whipped around, his jacket swinging around, "Then tell me! I'll _never_ understand _anything_ if you _never tell me!_"

Arthur sighed and held his hand out toward the smaller country, "Come, walk with me to the meeting. We'll be late, but... it'll be worth it as long as you get some understanding."

Alfred took the outstretched hand with a bit of worry before latching on like he was his lifeline, his reason for going out to sea in the first place.

Arthur opened the door, letting go of Alfred's hand and locking once they were on the porch, "Now listen here, Alfred," he paused as they began the long walk to the meeting hall in London, "there's a lot you don't understand, but let's start with the weight, alright?"

"But, Arthur, I already know about the weight. It's the country's weight, it's just there," Alfred said rather bluntly, latching onto Arthur's hand once again.

Arthur smiled, "Yes, it is your country's weight, but it's not just there. There is more to it. The weight on your shoulders is a reminder."

"Reminder?"

"Yes, it reminds you that you have a bigger purpose in life. That if you die, so does your country. The weight is a bringer of good news, and a bringer of bad news. When the weight is light, you're country is in a state of bliss, everything has gone well. When the weight is harsh, pounding down on your shoulders like a million bricks, you're country is in turmoil, there's nothing you can do about it unless the people do something about it."

"Wait, I'm not understanding this," Alfred said, as they turned down the path that lead to the town just ahead of their small recluse. "So, is my country in pain? Is that why I'm suffering with this?"

"Well, no," Arthur began, squeezing the small pale hand that was wound tightly in his. "You're just starting to find your place in this growing world, and with that comes the placement of everything you'll have to deal with. That Fate left in place for you. There's a trail we all must follow, much like the one we're on and sometimes..." He stopped to step over a fallen tree, "There are obsticles you need to overcome and get across to find the way to the happier times ahead."

Alfred grinned, stepping over the fallen tree, "you planned this didn't you?"

"How could I plan a tree's falling, Love? Am I Mother Nature? I think not. Sometimes the universe just wants to tell us things, in this case, the universe is helping me prove my point."

"You're still not making much sense, Arthur," Alfred confessed, latching onto his hand again. "You talk about the universe and Fate and things of that nature, but you're not helping me understand _me_."

Arthur sighed, "Because I can't, Love. _You're_ the only one who can understand _yourself._ I'm just here to help Fate line out the path for you."

"Well... could you tell me how you coped with the weight in the beginning?" Alfred's blue eyes sparkled a bit in the morning sunlight as they neared the town where they would then pick up their horses and continue on toward London.

"...Well I wasn't as strong as you are... It took me awhile to get used to it," He lied with a smile, "But after awhile I was finally able to stand up straight and walk on my own without trouble."

"Really? That means... I'll get better soon, right, Arthur?"

Arthur smiled, "yes of course you will, Love. And I'll be right there when it gets to be too much for you again."

Alfred pouted and looked at Arthur, "Promise?"

Arthur seemed confused, "Promise? You want me to promise that I'll be there when the weight is too much?"

Alfred nodded, "I want you to promise that you'll always be there for me when the weight gets too much."

Arthur's eyes drew downward, his face forlorn, "I can't _always_ be there for you, Love... I can try... I really can, but there are sometimes when you have to do things on your own... That and we live an ocean apart... it'll be... diffucult to help you through it when we're that far apart, Love."

Alfred seemed to ponder that thought a bit before answering, "Well, then promise you'll never forget about me and if I ever need your help with the weight you'll be there for me, even if we're far away... does that sound alright?"

Arthur seemed a bit wary of this idea but nodded anyways, "Yes. I promise, Love."

Alfred smiled as they reached the stable, the horses nibbling away at the haystacks by their hooves.

"Good Morning, Sir Arthur, are you here for Green Mint and Stargazer?" The owner's wife, Emily asked with a kind smile.

"Yes, but you don't have to get them for us, we know the way," Arthur said politely.

"I still can't believe you named your horse Green Mint," Alfred said rather smugly.

"Well, I can't believe you named your horse Stargazer."

"I have a logical reason behind mine!"

"Oh, do you now?"

"Yes, I do. I first found her when I was out walking when you were at a meeting. She was all alone and it was a very clear and starry night. She didn't seem afraid of me or anything, she just kept looking up at the stars... She was really pretty... and besides, the only reason you named yours Green Mint is because you _claim _to see mythical things that aren't real at all."

"Oh, shut up you git! They are real and you know it. You're just jealous that you can't see them."

"Yeah, sure. Okay, Arthur, whatever you say."

They took their horses by the reigns and lead them out of the stable, bickering along the way.

{~:-|-:~}

"Now, as you can see here, trade with the Americas has become a fantastic bargain with all of the natural resources they've been shipping to us," The deep throated, skinny man at the end of the long maple wood table said.

"Yes, I do see, but what I _also_ see is the giant shipping fee hanging over our heads," Arthur stated, shuffling the papers he had resting in front of him. "Trading with the Americas has put a major dent in our finances as well, if we don't trade more with them, we'll surely end up with less money than we started with when we sent the expolorers out there in the first place."

"Why don't we just tax them again," One man chimed in from the far corner of the table, "Doesn't that seem reasonable?"

Alfred had stayed quiet during this, like he was told, leaning against the wall behind Arthur, pretending not to hear anything, after all, he _was _just a _kid_, but suddenly he felt lightheaded. It's not like he hasn't felt lightheaded at all this past week, but he's been able to push through it, not ever letting Arthur know that he's been like this. He didn't want Arthur to worry. He never wanted Arthur to worry about him. He could take care of himself. Then the room was spinning and Alfred leaned forward, gripping the back of Arthur's chair, his face going alabaster white. Arthur didn't seem to notice, but Alfred didn't want to give him anymore trouble than he was already dealing with. He let go of the chair and slowly rose back to a standing position, his face casted down towards the floor, trying to focus his eyes on _one _pair of feet below him. His vision just wouldn't focus so finally, he mustered up enough courage and swallowed his pride to say something to Arthur.

"A... Arthur," He whispered, sweat pooling down his brow. Arthur glanced behind him, green eyes curious, but confused. "Arthur I think there's... something..."

The world was becoming black, his vision filling with dancing spots, moking him into unconsciousness.

"Love? Love are you okay?" Arthur asked, turning in his chair as Alfred slowly started to fall to the floor.

"I think... there's something..." He hit the floor. Hard. "wrong..."

His vision went black, but not before hearing the frantic voice of his protector, "Alfred? Alfred! Alfred, Love, stay with me! Someone! Get a doctor, please!"

Those words stung him, tore his heart into pieces, shreding it beyond recognition, until finally... nothing.


	2. Look At Me

A/N: holy rosin on a bow, thank you for favouriting my work! I would appriciate some feedback :3 Feedback is always nice. uhmmmm... Yeah, thank you people so much for favouriting my story it means a lot :3

{~:-|-:~}

Blue eyes opened slowly, the pupils expanding rapidly, giving the owner a horrible head rush. White was all he saw at first, then slowly dimensions came into play and he was able to make out the bumps in the ceiling hanging tauntingly over his head. Speaking of his head, oh, how much it hurt. It was like a thousand hammers nailing rusty metal spikes into his skull. Poudning repetitiously, over and over and over again... It would drive him mad for sure. The light streaming in from the curtains to the left of him wasn't doing him much good either. There was a weight beside him, and he was thankful it wasn't on his shoulders for once. He brought a pale arm over his eyes to shield them from the light that hung over him as well, the weight on his shoulders making him more in touch with reality. That's when he heard the light sigh that he'd know anywhere escape from the weight next to him. He lifted his arm a bit to see his pillow. His lovely, sleeping, bushy eyed pillow. He couldn't help but smile as his face twitched with the early signs of alertness.

Sleep was far away from Alfred, although craved it so much right now. Sleep was the only time when he could get some decent weightlessness. He closed his eyes as the 125 pound pillow beside him began to open his eyes. Some unnatural gutteral sounds were created from him before he finally sat up, his back cracking loudly, making Alfred twitch.

A hand was placed on his forehead, cold and clammy, but it was him. It was Arthur and that made him happy.

"Love... please, wake up soon," his sleep coated voice cooed, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you..."

Alfred refrained from opening his eyes, he was interested, he wanted to hear more.

"Love, if you can hear me, I'm sorry for what I said, if you even heard that," Oh, he did. Every word. "I was just so worried and I couldn't bear to see you like that... I'm just glad you didn't hurt yourself too much on that fall. You scared me so much, dropping to the floor like you did, you git, please warn me before you fall next time okay?"

Alfred's finger twitched in annoyance, he hated being talked to like a child. He was much more than that now that he was understanding his place in this growing world. He was much more important than a child could _ever_ be and it was slowly sinking in that Arthur would forever treat him like a child.

He hated that thought.

"I'm going down to get some tea and scones, alright? I won't be long. A few minutes, if that," Arthur said, gripping Alfred's hand with his free one before standing and leaving the places warmed by his hands cold to the morning air.

They weren't anywhere near Caersws, Alfred knew that for sure. He remembered that they went to the meeting in London and that they had taken their horses...

Their horses.

Blue eyes shot wide, "Stargazer. Oh god, I've got to get out of here and make sure she's okay." Alfred swung his legs over the side of the cot and stood barefoot on the cold wooden floor, sending chills running up his spine rapidly. He shuddered, grabbed his shoulders and sat down, feeling the lightheadedness returning to him just as fast as the chills ran through him. Spots danced in front of his vision yet agian and he was forced to lay down, fearing another collapse.

He sighed heavily, "I'm never going to get stronge like Arthur if I stay like this forever... I'm still so weak..."

Shoes clacked against the floor and Alfred tensed, he didn't want Arthur to see him like this. He quickly sat up and pulled the blankets up over his bruised legs. The shoes stopped in front of the open door and something fell to the floor with a loud crash, the feet then crunched over the broken glass and came to rest at the side of the bed.

"L... Love? Love you're awake...?"

Alfred said nothing, he couldn't. He was englufed in a hug so tight, he could swear his rib had cracked.

"Oh, Love, please, please, please don't scare me like that ever again!" Arthur said in a rushed tone, his hands shaking as they gripped the soft cotton fabric that rested on Alfred's back.

"A...Arthur... can't... breathe!" Alfred managed to wheeze out, inbetween the ramblings of Arthur and the slow collapsing of his lungs. Arthur let him go slowly and he sat down on the chair next to him, his rubbed his eyes before he looked at the panting boy before him.

"I'm sorry, Love, I was just so worried and I was so relieved when I saw you I..." Arthur began. Alfred held a hand up and he looked into those now dark green eyes. His emotions did that to them. Worry, sadness, depression... they all made them dark, happiness, joy, and anger made them bright, bright green. He loved seeing them that vibrant green color, so whenever he could, he'd make Arthur smile, or get mad.

"No, I understand," Alfred said, looking down at the sheets covering his legs. He could see the dark purple bruises, could feel them pulsating below the surface, sending pain striking through his legs like rapidfire. There were more, scattered about his small frail body. Of course there were more, the weight made sure of that, with each passing breath he took.

"Alright, well," A hand came to touch his cheek, tearing his gaze away from the pounding in his legs, "I'm glad there's nothing seriously wrong, you were alseep for so long, I assumed that you had..."

Alfred's eyes went wide, "H... how long have I been asleep...?"

Arthur's hand fell back to his own lap and he looked away from the boy he cared so much about, "Four days."

Alfred's wide eyes went from worry to shock to terror in an instant, "F...four days? I've been asleep for four days...?"

His hands went slack against the fabric and his whole body went seemed to slump down. He looked at Arthur, the green eyes still dark and thought about his home. He had never been gone this long before, four days here in England, then a few day's trip back to America. He was worried about his country. What if something terrible had happened to it? To his people? Suddenly, the weight on his shoulders came in for vengence, pushing him down into the soft bed, choking the air out of his lungs. But, before he completely flipped out on Arthur, telling him to send him back to America, he had business here to attend to.

"Stargazer... where's Stargazer?" Alfred said softly. His horse was only a year old, and he already missed her. Arthur blinked as Alfred turned his heavy head to look at his guardian.

"Stargazer?" Arthur asked, confused that he would even _consider_ thinking about his horse at a time like this.

Alfred's eyebrows drew down a few centimeters, showing his growing aggrivation, "Yes. Where is Stargazer?"

"She's back at the stable, they had to restrain her because she went bonkers when you came out of the meeting hall unconcious," Arthur said, rubbing his hands together. Alfred turned his legs over the side of the bed away from Arthur and his feet hit the cold floor once again.

"I've got to go see her," Alfred said as his arms shook a bit as he began to heave his heavy body up. Arthur rounded the side of the bed and stood in front of Alfred, not taking any notice to the boy's purple legs as he put his hands down on Alfred's shoulders, which were even more raw and purple than his legs were, and pushed him back down onto the bed.

"Oh, no you don't!" Arthur said, putting his hands on his hips in aggrivation at the young stubborn boy. "You're staying here until the doctor says you're well enough to leave."

Alfred's eyes narrowed at his guardian, "I have just as much authority as you do, Arthur. I can leave if I want to."

"I'm only doing this because you're not well enough."

"Please, I'm begging you, Arthur, let me see my horse."

"A horse is not that important, Love. She'll survive another day's wait. You're health is what matters most here."

"My health? I've never been at my top health since I was a child, Arthur. _Look at me, for God's sake_. What about me is _healthy_?"

Arthur took a step back to fully understand what was wrong with his young Love from across the seas. Alfred seemed completely and utterly normal at first glace. Arthur shook his head a bit and his gaze traveled down to the floor, and that's when he saw two purple feet at the bottom of the bed. They weren't exactly a dark purple color, more like a god awful grey and purple mix, fading from the darkest purple out into the grey and beige color that layered out into his skin. His feet were worse than his legs, by far, at least you could see the color of his skin on his legs. The spots of the bruises were awful, large mishapen circles that covered a wide area of his leg at a time, stretching upwards then finally stopping only to be greeted by three or four inches of pale beige before it met up with another, smaller, but still impacting, purple circle. His eyes traced up the small boy's chest to see the bruise jutting out from the collar of Alfred's shirt, resting tauntingly on his neck. Arthur's eyes were wide with shock and denial. He couldn't be impacted that much from the weight alone could he? There was no way it could just be the weight, that'd be crazy.

"Who... Who did this to you?" Arthur asked, his voice shakey and filled with worry, sadness and anger.

"Who? It can't be classified as a who, Arthur. No one touched me. This is the weight. It's always been the weight and nothing more," Alfred said, his shoulders slumping, his gaze falling to his hand beside him.

"No, that can't be... No one's been affected like this before, it just can't be!" Arthur said shaking his head in disbelief.

"It is. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to fight this off and not feel the weight anymore like you and everybody else can..."

"No, don't talk like that, Love," Arthur said kneeling before the boy. "You're very strong. Any other country in your position would be crying for death by now, you're very strong for lasting this long and you should be so proud of yourself, _I'm_ so proud of you."

"You're... you're proud of me...?" Alfred asked, his eyes shining as he looked up at Arthur, hope in his eyes.

Arthur smiled, "yes, I'm very, very proud of you, Alfred."

Aflred's lips tore upward in one of the biggest smiles he's ever mustered up and he hugged Arthur in a swift movement, "Thank you, Arthur! Thank you!"

Arthur smiled and hugged him back, "You're welcome, Love..."

_"His emotions are so fickle... his pride is so vunerable... that's because he's still just a child... I fear the day when his emotions become solid, and his pride powerful, but I also embrace it with open arms... He's so young to be dealing with the weight of a country so big and vast... I wish I could do something..._" Arthur thought as Alfred let him go.

"Rest some more okay, Love?" Arthur asked, his voice craking just a bit. Alfred nodded and pulled the blankets back over his broken form.

"Okay, Arthur. I love you," Alfred said.

"I love you too, Alfred... Sleep well..."

{~:-|-:~}

"Bye, Arthur!" Alfred called from the bow of the boat he was on.

"Bye, Love. Be careful and do try not to get sick on your way back to America alright?" Arthur called back from the dock.

"I won't get sick, don't worry! I'll see you when I visit next!"

"No, I'm coming to visit you next, alright? I want to see more of America!"

"Alright, bye Arthur! I'll miss you! Come visit soon!"

"I will, Love. Don't you worry about a thing!"

Alfred waved and made his way back into the center of the boat as it slowly pulled away from the port. This was going to be a long trip back to America and Alfred prayed his stomach could hold out for at least the beginning of the trip.

He felt his stomach twist and to him, it flipped upside down. As quickly as his legs could take him, he cleared a path full of future settlers and visitors to the side of the ship and threw up.

His prayre wasn't answered this time.

{~:-|-:~}

Arthur sat at the head of another board meeting in London about trading with the colonies in America and the horrific tension between France and England.

"This is costing us too much money! What with impending war with France and the colonies overseas, our economy just can't take much more of this!" A fat man said from the three seats to the left of Arthur.

It's been three weeks since Arthur has seen Alfred and he'd been starting to miss the little bundle of blue eyed joy running around his home, and all this talk of America made him feel even more lonesome.

"Why don't we just tax the Americas?" The skinny, deep throated man at the other end of the table asked. "They won't mind, they're still citizens of Great Britain and they're still under the rulings of the King and Queen."

"Yes," Arthur agreed. "Fine, do as you will. But I request visitation to America."

"What for?" the fat man asked, crossing his arms. The other members seated at the table grumbled in agreement.

"What for? You're asking your country figure, why he requests to go overseas to see the American country figure? His own _brother_? Do you find me lower than you because you run London?" Arthur asked, rising from his chair.

"No, Mr. Kirkland... it's just you've never asked to go overseas before, you just go..." the deep throated man said, his voice low.

"The reason I asked this time around is because of the tension between France and Great Britain. I want immediate notice if we're sent to war with them and I want all documents of furthur meetings about this kept on record until I return to review them, is that clear?"

The bodies said in unison, "Yes, Mr. Kirkland."

Arthur grabbed his coat and folded it over his arm as he walked around the table to leave the room, "Thank you for your understandings gentlemen, I'll be taking my leave now. Tomorrow I'll be on the boat for America."

With that last statement, Arthur opened the door and walked out, closing it behind him.

A/N: Thoughts? Feedback? This chapter is a bit... messy to me. Tell me what you think please~


	3. A Snowy Serenade

Alfred couldn't sleep the night he came home from Great Britain. He missed sleeping with Arthur and he missed that other person around the house. He never saw his housekeepers, because he didn't have any. He was alone in one of the biggest houses in his newly developing country and he didn't have any idea what he could do about it. His only horse was back with Arthur and he missed walking with her and sitting down next to her when he was feeling lonely. Arthur wouldn't let Stargazer near the house unless it was for traveling purposes. He said that horses "_belonged in the stables_" and Alfred never felt that way. That was just one of the many differences they shared... and quite frankly, he hated it.

Alfred shifted in his bed and flopped onto his back, his blue eyes clouded by lack of sleep and dulled by the dark bags underneath his eyes. He breathed slowly trying to dull the pain away, but his chest was too bruised for him to fully expand his lungs. Shocks of pain sparked through his small, frail body as a knock was heard on his door. Slowly, he sat up and tried to get the black around his eyes to disappear.

The knock on the door again forced him to reply, "One minute, please!" He stood up on shaking legs and quickly dressed himself, making his way slowly down the stairs when the knock came again. He sighed, walking over to the door and opening it.

"Yes," Alfred began. "How may I help you?"

"You have business to attend to, Mr. Jones," the tall man in front of him said. Alfred looked up, seeing the familiar face.

"Jacob!" Alfred exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "Its so nice to see you again! I'm sorry I was gone for so long."

Jacob smiled and ruffled his hair, "There's no need to apologize, Mr. Jones, I got word of what happened in a letter from Arthur a few days before you arrived."

Alfred nodded and stepped out of his house, standing next to Jacob, "So, where do I need to go now?" Jacob paused as Alfred turned and closed his door before turning to look back up at the man, without locking it.

Jacob looked around a few seconds and knelt down in front of Alfred, "Listen here, boy," his eyes shifted around again, his voice dropping down a few octaves, "we have a very important matter to discuss that has been on hold since you were scheduled to return back here."

Alfred looked at his feet, "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," Jacob said, taking hold of his shoulders. "We can't discuss much here, but I'll tell you the downplay of what was discussed," his voiced lowered even more as the colonists began to do their early morning duties, "The colonists are fed up of England taxing them, I for one am sick and tired of it, to say the least, but they've gone as far as to start suggesting we secede from Great Britain, now as of right now, things are quiet and no one seems to mind the taxing at all; but I'm afraid that if the French do end up going to war or if Britain ends up declaring it, which, unfortunately for us, is the highest probability as of right now, then they'll send all able bodied men out to defend us."

A few people passing by turned to look at them, muttering things underneath their breath. Jacob stood abruptly and held his hand out to Alfred, who was still trying to digest all of this. Alfred took his hand and they walked down the street as Jacob began to mumble to himself.

"Jacob, I can't hear you," Alfred said, looking up at the man once again, pouting a bit. Jacob didn't answer him, but he spared him a glance before they rounded a corner and began the short trek to Town Hall.

Alfred pulled on Jacob's sleeve, trying to get him to answer, "Jacob, I'm worried, what's going on?"

Jacob pulled Alfred into the opened door that quickly shut behind him before kneeling down in front of him, his hands on Alfred's shoulders, "Listen here, boy." There was a seriousness in his voice that made Alfred tense a bit and give him his full attention.

Jacob continued, his eyes narrowing, "You're going to have to grow up."

Alfred looked at him, pure bewilderment on his face, "What are you talking about, Jacob?"

Jacob sighed, "you're still so young... to force a child like you to..." His sentence trailed and Alfred tipped his head to the side, confused.

"Jacob, I don't understand, what's going-"

"Shush, now. Come with me, we have much to discuss."

He grabbed his wrist and pulled him farther into the house, "wait! Jacob, what's going on? I don't understand! Please!"

Jacob didn't answer, he just dragged Alfred into the room without a sound.

{~:-|-:~}

"Monsieur Kirkland..."

A groan answered.

"Monsieur Kirkland," the voice became agitated.

The groan turned into a muffled reply as the body turned over and shoved its head into a pillow.

"Arthur!" the voice boomed.

"Oh, bollocks, _what do you want_?" Arthur yelled, sitting up only to be greeted by a shirtless Francis Bonnefoy leaning over him; a sly smirk on his lips. He immediately grabbed the nearest thing to him and gripped it to his chest. The only problem was that it was a pillow.

"Arthur," Francis purred, coming a bit closer. "You're so cute when you sleep, did you know that?"

"B-...**_Bloody__ hell!_**" Arthur cried, slamming his pillow into Francis' face; an automatic response. Francis fell over from the sheer force and landed on the floor, a blank look on his face.

"Why," he began. "Arthur, that wasn't very nice, now was it?"

"Why the bloody hell are you here Francis?"

"You're not the only one who wants claims in America."

"Oh, no you git. There's no way you're getting anything from Alfred."

"Ohonhonhonhonhon~ well that should be up to him then, non?"

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?"

"Well, if Alfred chooses to give his land to me willingly then-"

"_No!_ I won't allow this, he's just a child and _I_ am his_ Guardian_, Francis."

"Not until he turns eighteen."

Arthur stared at the Frenchman in front of him and made a mental note to place a curse on him when he gets to his home in America.

"Well, anyways," Francis said, standing. "The boat has arrived and I just wanted to wake you."

"Next time," Arthur spat, as Francis turned to leave. "Get one of the attendants to do it you bloody wanker."

Francis just laughed and left his room as Arthur got up and began to dress himself whilst thinking of all the things Francis had said to him.

_"What if he's right... will he choose me over that bloody git? No, what am I thinking? Of course Alfred will choose me, I am his Guardian after all and he owes me that much... but it's his free will... Wait. _What_ am I thinking? This isn't like shipping your daughter off to the nearest husband available at age eighteen. That Frenchman has gotten me all mixed up about this. I can rule over Alfred forever if I need to... wait when did I get into the carriage?"_

Arthur stared dumbfounded at the small box he was in, his small suitcase next to him. How on Earth had he gotten in here? Was he really that oblivious? And the carriage man seemed to know exactly where to take him. Arthur sighed, his obliviousness really needed to tone it down a notch. Anymore of this and he just might walk into open gunfire. He stared out the window at the passing scenery. The towns were growing substantially and everything seemed to be in order from where Arthur was sitting. There were people trading in shops, buying meats and vegetables. The blacksmiths, gunsmiths and sword-smiths were all in good business it seemed and everything was calm. The carriage turned the corner and the road became less cluttered with people and more open and serene. Arthur smiled to himself, proud that Alfred had chosen a place so out in the open to have his home. It was close to town, but far enough away to have a quiet afternoon alone with no distractions. Arthur had never taken Alfred to be a very environmental person, but looks can be deceiving. The white house came into view and Arthur thought a stroll would be wondrous to try and think of what he should say to Alfred when he just shows up on his doorstep. But then again... he _does_ have a key.

"You can stop here," Arthur said to no one in particular. "I'll walk."

"Are you sure, sir?" The carriage man asked, stopping the horses.

Arthur smiled, "Yes, don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

The man hopped off of his horses and said his goodbyes to Arthur properly before remounting them and riding off again.

Arthur smiled a bit wider, maybe America had a chance after all.

He started his walk toward the white house in the distance, his thoughts pushed to the back of his mind. He was _not_ going to loose his head out here. The colonists are still having some trouble with the Natives. He reached the house in record time, feeling completely contempt here and glided up the steps.

He knocked once...Twice...Three times.

No answer.

Pursing his lips, he put his hand on the door knob and twisted it. To his shock it opened. He pushed the disapproving nature that was growing in him down and walked into the house, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Alfred?" He called, putting his suitcase on the table beside the door. His voiced echoed throughout the house, giving it a vacant feeling. Worried, Arthur walked up the stairs and towards Alfred's room.

"Alfred," He began, knocking lightly on the door. "Love, are you sleeping still?"

No sound was heard from beyond the door and Arthur's eyebrows creased upwards. He opened the door slowly, expecting the worse. What he had gotten was even more horrific than his imagination could have ever thought of.

The room was empty and clean. Green eyes widened with shock as Arthur closed the door quickly, eyebrows pulling together.

"...Alfred? Where have you gone?"

{~:-|-:~}

It felt like a dream to him... The faintest memory resting in the corner of his mind... Locked in a cage where it could never, _ever,_ escape. But he knew better. He knew better _now_, anyways. It replayed over and over and over in his head until he had almost committed it to memory:

_"Jacob!" He cried, struggling against the arms that were holding him down. "What are you doing? Stop this!"_

_Jacob looked at him, his eyes hard as if they were set in stone... but then again, nothing is. Blue eyes were watering, tears spilling over black eyelashes, down pale cheeks hitting the floor beneath his feet as they stared back with fright at Jacob._

_"Alfred, shut your bloody mouth," Jacob hissed, pulling his arm up and making his feet come off of the ground. "There's no choice. I'm sorry we had to do this to you, but it's necessary if we want to thrive as an independent country."_

_Alfred winced from the stretching of his muscles as he was forcibly shoved into the meeting hall. There, he would be interrogated._

_"State your name," A large, powerful voice boomed from the back of the darkened meeting hall. Alfred's whole body tensed and for the first time, the pressure of others was the only thing weighing him down. His country didn't matter at that point, for as of right then and there, it simply didn't exist._

_"A...Alfred F. Jones," he managed to say as sweat pooled from his brow. A grunt of approval was heard from the far right corner of the room._

_"Age."_

_"I... I'm ten..."_

_"Relationships."_

_"Arthur Kirkland is my big brother," he said, his voice not tripping once over the statement as the men interrogating him thought he would._

_"Are you happy with him?"_

_"Very much so, yes."_

_"What if your people wanted to secede?"_

_"Why would they want that?"_

_"Who's asking the bloody questions here?" the voice boomed, making the whole room seem to shake with its intensity._

_"...then it wouldn't be my choice if my people wanted to secede..."_

_"Very good answer," the voice said, lower and calmer now._

_"But why?"_

_"Who's-"_

_The loud voice was interrupted by a smaller, calmer one, "Let's answer the poor boy's question."_

_The louder voice grumbled and then the smaller voice answered his question finally, "we have resources telling us that the French and British will go to war over the remaining area of land here in America."_

_"Why would they do that?" Alfred asked, his mind reeling with the mere thought of Francis and Arthur fighting each other._

_"Why the bloody hell should we know?" the louder voice cut in, rather curtly. Alfred shook a bit at the intensity of the voice and his back straightened._

_"You will grow," the softer voice said monotonously._

_"Excuse me?" Alfred asked, leaning forward a bit._

_"You will grow," the voice repeated, louder this time._

_A pinch of something stirred inside of Alfred's chest, making his heart beat irregularly. There was alchemy in this room, he was sure of that now. Someone was pulling the strings; making him change faster that he should have. Shock waves reverberated through his body, sending his limbs into a numbness that scared him to death. He wanted to scream out, to let _someone_ know that he was being tortured in here. He wanted someone to come and save him... he wanted _Arthur_..._

_It wasn't long before he blacked out, but the pain was so immense, he remembered wishing that the weight would come back, wishing that he could die... wishing... wishing... wishing..._

Alfred blinked, gathering up his surroundings. He somehow managed to stay on course during his little journey to the past. He was nearly twenty feet from his house, stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes vacant. He shook his head and willed his feet to move him forward, toward his empty house, where no one would be there to listen to his problems... at least not like Arthur did. But Arthur was back in England, going about his life without a single care in the world. Alfred was jealous of him, being able to cope with all the problems of his country... Arthur was so strong... so brave... and Alfred wanted a taste of that... that power. He wanted to be the one people could lean on for help. He wanted to be the person that everyone could count on if they ever needed a hand. He wanted to be the type of person someone could talk to easily... someone like... Arthur...

He'd kept to himself on his way home, ignoring all the usual people who usually greet him on his way back from the meeting hall. They didn't pry or try to figure out what was wrong with him, they could _sense_ the loneliness and pure disgust rolling off of him enough to get the message that he really just wanted to be home where he could lash out in one of the guest bedrooms and break a few things... like he usually did when he was angry. It wasn't a healthy habit, he knew that for sure, but it made him feel... better...

Besides, he could always say that the bruises and scratches on his hands and knuckles were from the weight so Arthur wouldn't get suspicious.

He trudged up his steps and put his hand on the doorknob, twisting.

It was locked. How strange, he was sure he had left it open when Jacob dragged him away... maybe he had just forgotten that he had locked it. He pulled his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door before stepping in.

"Alfred? Is that you? Where have you been?" Arthur called from the kitchen.

Alfred froze, blue eyes wide. He did _not_ want Arthur to see him like... like _this_.

But it was too late, Arthur rounded the corner and froze as well, his mouth agape and eyes horrifically wide.

"A... Alfred...?" he asked, stepping forward a bit, receiving a back step from Alfred. He didn't know what to do, he was trapped.

Arthur stepped forward again, reaching out, "What... what have they done to you...?"

Alfred continued to step back as Arthur advanced. He was still worn out from earlier and he couldn't think of anything to say. His thoughts were rushing into his head like a million bullets; firing through his head but never reaching his mouth. His foot slipped off of the first step of his porch and he fell down onto the floor with a loud, sickening thud.

When Alfred was standing, Arthur was in the doorway, staring at him, bewildered.

"Alfred, what happened?" Arthur asked again, coming towards him. Alfred backed up with each one of Arthur's advancing steps, trying to pull his mind from the gutter. Everything was happened too fast and he wasn't prepared. He wasn't ready for this yet and he knew that Arthur would never understand if he even tried to explain his situation to him. He _wanted_ to talk about it, he really did, but he just didn't think that Arthur would be able to understand where he was coming from, not to mention the reasons that this had happened to him in the first place. Hell, _he_ didn't even know why this had happened to him. Everything was blurry and he couldn't remember much after he had woken up...

He continued to back up, like a wild animal caught in a predator's trap until his back came in contact with something solid that he _knew_wasn't supposed to be there. He turned his head to the side, seeing the all-to-familiar suit of Jacob.

Panicking now, he turned fully, his heart beating in his ears as his eyebrows drew together with fright; eyes filled with fire. Jacob stared down at him like he had thought nothing more of him than the dirt that covered the Earth. It made him so angry he just wanted to...

A hand was placed on his shoulder from behind, driving him over the edge. He pushed away from both of them, feeling caged. He _hated _this.

"_Leave me alone!_" Alfred cried, sprinting off toward the forest directly in front of his house.

"Alfred, wait!" Arthur cried, starting off after him. Jacob put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Arthur looked up at him, seeing the way he was staring at Alfred through narrowed eyes.

"He'll come back," Jacob said, a glint of something in his eyes. "He's been in that forest before, he knows what to do and how to get out."

"I don't give a _damn_ about what he does and doesn't know," Arthur snapped, pushing Jacob's hand off of his shoulder. "When I return you and I are going to have a little chat."

Before Jacob could even give an intelligent response pertaining to his situation, Arthur was running after Alfred who had disappeared into the brush.

A breath was sucked in before curtly let out in a much needed sigh as Jacob put his hand on his forehead, looking down at the floor. He had so much to regret...

"I hope what I did was right..." He said softly, before turning his gaze towards the darkening skies.

"Tell me what I did was right... Tell me... that this was what was best for the country as a whole... Tell me... that I didn't hurt anyone badly... Tell me... Tell me what I'm going to do next... won't hurt anyone else..."

He stared up at the sky for a few minutes before closing his eyes and grinding his teeth, his fists clenching together tightly; drawing blood.

As the first snowflake of the winter season fell down to the Earth... he knew what he had to do...


	4. Trapped

Arthur had no idea where the bloody hell he was going, clambering over fallen trees covered with moss and rotting from years of neglect from forest animals, tripping over uprooted trees and plants showing his feet and legs no mercy, the vines coming out to grab his arms, a desperate attempt of holding him still. To stop him so that the forest and everything currently inhabited in it could have their way with him. Thorns from bush after bush, vine after vine and sharp twig after sharp twig attached to elongated branches were cutting him anywhere and everywhere, sending small pools of running red down the pale flesh that had been cut. His breath was sharp and short, each intake bringing a burn scalding down his throat. With each push of his legs, knowing that he was well beyond his athletic limit of running, his calves, thighs, feet and ankles burned with an intensity that only the layers of hell could supply.

But he continued. Seeing the back of the running boy fifty feet in front of him increased the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his mind renewed and distraught with worry and confusion.

Why? He asked himself, over and over and over. Why was Alfred so afraid to just come and _talk_ to him for crying out loud? Why did he insist on keeping everything bottled up? Why did he have to be so like...?

Alfred made and abrupt left turn, skidding around a collapsing tree with little worry for his safety. In Arthur's constant though process of _"__why, why, why"_ his mind refused to pick up on the wicked gale that now graced the land with its disastrous presence. Fear reached its peak in Arthur's body and he began to run a bit faster, a bit harder, his strides lengthening just a bit more, pushing his body and his mind beyond their limits until they finally went numb from all of the running, the jumping and the emotional strain. From his overworking lungs to his erratically beating heart he knew that everything would finally give up on him, that he wouldn't be there in mind or in body until his goal was completed. He was going to kill himself and scold himself later from all of this running around like a madman, but he needed to do this. He had questions. He needed answers. He needed to know what was going on in that boy's mind. He needed... He needed Alfred.

Hopping over the fallen tree that Alfred had so skillfully avoided when it was falling, his shirt got caught on yet another sharp twig, ripping the fabric and tearing a good section of it off. He glanced down at it, grunting in displeasure at the rather deep scratch on his forearm, paying it no mind as the snow rapidly collecting on the ground suddenly caught his distracted attention.

It was coming down in droves from the heavens, black clouds masking the light from the sky and Arthur couldn't remember whether it had been sunlit or moonlit before the clouds darkened every inch of the Earth with their brooding way of looming over the land like it was nothing more than an insignificant spec of dirt on a flawless porcelain floor. The way the snow fell showed the urgency the clouds had in wanting to remove the ugly piece of dirt that so easily disrupted the shine on their used-to-be porcelain floor.

It had the ground covered with a half an inch of snow in the course of thirty minutes and its pace never faltered once. Arthur, finding Alfred's footprints in the snow, saw it as a blessing and a curse. The snow gave him knowledge of where Alfred was heading but as quickly as the tracks showed up, they disappeared with the relentless falling of the snow. His breathing became hoarse from the added stress of the fact that if they couldn't resolve this matter soon, they might never find their way back to town or to Alfred's now abandoned home. He had to trust that the Gods were on his side today and that Alfred would come close enough to his senses to realize what he was doing was both stupid and life threatening.

Arthur doubted he would without constant persuasion and a hell of a lot of begging and pleading.

Finally, he saw Alfred stop in front of a rather large tree then begin a hasty climb up the vines that were winding elegantly, yet harshly, up the base of it. Arthur stopped in front of the tree, seeing that Alfred was a good twenty feet up when he spotted the rectangular object jutting out from the tree. He was utterly confused and, through a hoarse voice and carbon dioxide filled lungs, called out to Alfred.

"Alfred, what's going on?" He cried, cupping his red hands around his mouth so the sound would travel up towards the climbing body. Alfred froze for a few seconds before reaching up and grabbing the platform and hoisting himself upwards onto it.

"Go, away," He heard Alfred call over the roaring of the overly pissed off wind.

"Alfred, won't you just come down here and explain to me what's going on? What happened to make you run away like that? Why are you so distant? What in God's name are you doing up there?"

"Leave me _alone!_" Alfred cried once again, the wind seeming to shudder at the sound of anger and confusion in his voice. Arthur was beyond worried and words now. He was pissed. He griped the vines, putting one foot on the bottom of them, finding that they were stronger than he originally expected them to be, and with a shaking hand began to pull himself upwards and toward the platform at the top of the tree.

The vines were digging into his chapped hands like butter, causing him to grunt and writhe with each new level attained. He never once looked down until he reached the top of the vines, where the platform started and he prayed didn't end. Carefully and with an overly cautious mind, he reached out with his shaking hand again and gripped onto the wooden surface tightly, as if it were the only thing holding his life in check; and as his other hand gripping the vines moved to join the other on the platform it was.

His fingers slipped off of the now red and green vines, gravity, and extreme fatigue along with the weight bearing down on him like a million bricks; a small yelp passed his lips. His legs instantly fell underneath him, adding more weight to his body than needed.

"Bloody hell!" Arthur managed to choke out, his eyes traveling downwards toward the snow-covered ground.

Three inches, he'd guess. Not nearly enough to cushion his fall if he did. His heart pounded with fear once again, seeing that he was nearly fifty or sixty feet from the ground. He told himself to squirm a bit, to swing his open arm up, and he did.

His fingers were numb, slipping from the wood, the sweat the blood and the numbness making them lose their grip. His other hand was frantically trying to reach the platform and his vision was blurring; oxygen lacking in his lungs. He knew he wouldn't last long in his condition, even as his second hand grasped the wooden surface. His eyes were becoming crossed, his mind submitting to those mocking black spots dancing around his vision with the intention of shutting his mind down. Everything started to slow down as his hands lost their grip when a white anomaly grabbed his arm and pulled him up onto the platform. He felt the sheer force put into it as it nearly made his arm pop out of its socket. Once onto the comforting hardwood surface, he tried his very best to get up and look around for Alfred, but he couldn't get his body to respond to him. Every muscle was tightened with strain, still pumping with the now somewhat regulating beats of his heart, but his sheer will to see Alfred's face and make sure that he was okay, made him strain to get to his knees, harsh panting escaping his chapped lips.

"Stop it," A familiar voice said through the ringing in Arthur's ears. His head shot up and he turned towards that reassuring, calming, heart wrenching voice and nearly let out a sob of gratitude.

"Alfred," Arthur began, reaching out and grabbing his sleeve. "Alfred... thank goodness... I'm so..."

"Arthur, stop it," The voice was soft, but harsh, strained and cracking from overuse. Arthur's eyes finally came back into focus as he stared at the boy in front of him.

"Alfred, I," Arthur began, blinking to clear his vision a bit more. "I won't push anything on you so long as you don't want to talk about it-"

"Good, because I don't."

"But I want you to know, I'm here for you," Arthur continued, looking up at Alfred with heavy eyes before he finally collapsed onto the wooden surface, his body too heavy to deal with another move.

"I can't believe you chased me all the way here..." Alfred mumbled, and Arthur could hear the way he ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"I can't believe you ran away," Arthur retorted with a heavy voice.

"I can't believe you'd think I wouldn't."

"I can't believe you can't speak proper English."

"I can't believe you're judging me on my English."

"I can't believe you think I wouldn't."

"I can't believe you're here."

"I can't believe you'd actually care that I am."

"I can't believe you actually think I wouldn't."

"I can't believe you just said that."

"Well, believe it," Alfred said with a small smile. "What on earth possessed you to chase me, Arthur?"

"Love," Arthur began, rolling his head to the side to look up at Alfred. "You're my responsibility, and if I lost you... I don't know... what I would do."

_"He's delirious..."_ Alfred thought, looking down at the man who raised him. _"He has to be..."_

"Where are we anyway, Love?" Arthur asked, his half lidded eyes roaming the small confined, wooden room slowly. "It's... nothing like anything I've seen."

"It's my special place," Alfred said slowly, tracing patterns slowly on the wooden floor. "I come here when I need to think or let off some steam... It's... special to me."

Arthur stared at the younger boy, slightly awe stricken, "Well, I'm happy you have a place for yourself... but... must it be _this_ secluded?"

"Yes," Alfred said his tone sure. "It must." Arthur all but nodded, closing his green eyes with a deep breath through his nose and a sigh from his lips.

Alfred looked at him, his blue eyes confused. Why would he come all the way here just for him? He's not like that... or... did Alfred just not know what there really _is_ left unknown about Arthur? He looked so peaceful, his face calm and satisfied as if he had been sleeping this entire time, his long eyelashes caressing the tops of his cheeks in a graceful manner. His shoulders shook from the cold, but he didn't seem to mind, nor did he seem to notice it. He looked so comfortable... but the way his eyebrows pulled together proved otherwise. He was surely not comfortable and for some reason, Alfred didn't like to see that. He didn't want to see Arthur uncomfortable in any way. Without a second, more rational thought, his hands traveled to the seemingly relaxed man in front of him and hefted his heavy body over to his own and rested his head on his lap receiving shocked green eyes as a greeting.

"What... are you doing?" Arthur asked, his head lolling awkwardly to the side on Alfred's leg.

"You were uncomfortable," Alfred said bluntly. "I fixed it."

"I was perfectly fine the way I was."

"So you say. Just... deal with it. We'll be up here for a while and you need all the body heat you can get. You may not notice it, but you're shivering and your lips are as blue as death."

A chapped hand came shivering up to its owner's lips, running over them slowly as realization finally hit. He was _freezing to death_. Literally and figuratively speaking. He shifted slightly, to get a better position on Alfred's lap and grabbed the hem of his trousers lightly, subconsciously afraid that if he were to let go, Alfred would be gone again. It was a childish and selfish thought, but Arthur saw nothing of it, fearing hypothermia and frostbite would soon come into play if he didn't get heat soon.

"You're so..." Alfred began.

Arthur answered with a groan and a tired sigh, wanting peace in this little room of wood. Alfred remained silent as the coldness seeped into the small room, receiving a tighter hand on his trousers. Alfred looked down at his guardian with a curious mind. Why had he been so upset? So, he had run away, isn't that what you do when you're upset about something? It seemed natural... to try and escape...

"...Love," Arthur began, rubbing his chapped and healing hands together. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? I mean... it seems like it's troubling you..."

"...Not now, Arthur, please. I can't..."

"Alright, Love... I just want you to know that I'll always be here for you... through good times and bad. I'm here."

"...Thank you, Arthur... thank you."

{~:-|-:~}

Arthur didn't really remember waking up, but there was a nagging feeling at the base of his mind that told him otherwise, that he didn't wake up, that this was all a dream, that he was home, under his nice woolen blanket, waking to the morning sun like he did every morning before heading into town. But, as his eyes came slowly into focus, he knew that that nagging feeling was just his mind telling him to believe its illusions. That there was a good portion of his mind that told him, screamed at him, to believe them. That the future from now on would only make him drown in an emotional pit of agony and despair and his mind didn't want to take it. To be honest, he really didn't want to take it, either. But he forced himself to sit up, despite aching muscles and a raking coldness that raked through his body, and he was forcefully shot down by both gravity and the weight of his country. It sent his mind reeling back into his delusions.

"Don't even try to get up," Alfred's voice raked through his half-conscious mind and sent him spinning back into reality faster than he could even muster up a blink. "You're way too weak to move."

All Arthur could do was breath out of his mouth in an aggravated response. Alfred was right, but he just didn't want to admit it. He wanted to get up and get out of Alfred's special place, to a much warmer one where he could relax a bit and gradually pry the answers he wanted out of Alfred, but he knew that he couldn't.

Arthur struggled again, the weight seemingly heavier on his shoulders, making his arms shake worse than the hypothermia would ever let them, and began to lift his torso upwards. His arms screamed at him for rest and recuperation, as did his legs, but he forced his mind to promptly shut them both out. There was no room for pain in this situation, there never was. He barely heard Alfred's worried-turning-angry protests beyond the ringing that was shattering his eardrums. He couldn't think. There was just empty spaced between each pained movement, the overall miniscule thought ringing in his shattered conscience: _"Alfred, Alfred, Alfred. He's okay. He's okay. He's okay."_

Finally, a voice broke through, just as he settled himself against the wall directly in front of him:

"_You're killing yourself!"_ Alfred cried out, grabbing Arthur's arm. Arthur stared at him, an empty look to his eyes, as he assessed the situation with a slow blink.

"Alfred," he began, lifting his other hand and placing it atop Alfred's trembling arm. "Alfred, I'm okay, I'm okay."

"_Look at youself, Arthur!_" Alfred cried out, snapping Arthur back into his pain inflicted body to register what this young boy in front of him was saying.

"Look at _myself_? Look at _yourself_," Arthur said. "What _happened_ to you? What did they _do to you_? I didn't want to bring it up, because I knew you were not ready to tell me, but you leave me no other choice. What. Did. They. Do."

Each word rang like venom in Alfred's ears. He _was_ going to tell Arthur, he just… he just didn't know how to. How can you tell someone so close and so special to you that you've been altered to fulfill someone else's dreams of a free country when the country itself hadn't even agreed on the idea? How could you tell the person who raised you that you were suffering because of the weight, the stress, the famine, the worried expressions that pass over his face every time you stumble, every time you fall? How could you even fathom the rate in which his mind was traveling each and every day? He didn't know how. He didn't know why. He just knew what had happened. And what had happened, was already in the past; and Alfred didn't like looking back.

"…I can't tell you," Alfred said, releasing Arthur's arm and turning away from him. He was so different than when Alfred had been watching him sleep. He was so peaceful; he looked so young, so innocent, so fragile. He just… he just wanted to protect him. And this was the only way he could.

"Alfred, _please_," Arthur begged, reaching out towards him, in a fleeting attempt to regain whatever connection the two shared. "_Please, Alfred, please._"

"I can't…"

"When can you?"

"I don't know."

"Will you tell me?"

"I'll try to…"

"Will you tell me who did it when you do?"

"If I remember, yes, I will…"

Arthur's hand fell slack, falling back into his lap.

"So," Alfred began. "We're going to be stuck up here for a while…"

"Stuck?" Arthur asked, his head tilting to the side slightly.

"We're snowed in," Alfred said slowly, nodding towards the window on the far side of the room. "If we tried to head back now, we'd die."

Arthur willed his legs to move again and he slowly crawled over to the window, to stare out it.

"…My god, it's only been a few hours!" Arthur said, sliding back down the wall. "How could the snow have gotten so high in such a short amount of time?"

Alfred looked at Arthur, a perplexed look illuminating his face, "Arthur… you've been asleep for two days."

Arthur's head shot around towards Alfred, his bright emeralds wide with shock, "No… no that can't be."

"Well, it is. We only have enough food for a few days, and I believe the storm will last longer than expected."

"So… you're telling me we have to ration?"

"Either that or go hunting."

Arthur nodded, thinking back to his unknown skills, "Alright."

"Arthur…," Alfred began, crawling over to Arthur to sit near him. Arthur followed his movements, confused, but happy for the sudden comfort.

"Yes, what is it, Love?"

Alfred slid down to rest his head on Arthur's shoulder, "I'm sorry…"

Arthur closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the boy, "Don't apologize… it's not your fault. And it never will be."

"Thank you, Arthur… thank you."

Arthur nodded, and they stayed like that, Alfred eventually returning the welcoming and comforting embrace.

He really did want to tell Arthur, he _really_ did. He just… didn't want to hurt him.

Hurting him… was the _last_ thing he wanted to do.


	5. A SMALL UPDATE ABOUT THIS STORY

Authors note:

Hello everyone! I'm so so so so so so so SO SORRY I haven't updated this story in GOD KNOWS HOW LONG I MEAN HOLY SHIT.

I just wanted to inform you all that yes this story is still ongoing! I haven't had the chance to write as much as I'd like, what with school starting up again and the fact that my Microsoft Word has completely... well it's kaput.

I just want to let you know I will be continuing this story and I'll try my best to get it up as soon as I can!

Thank you all for your wonderful support for my story!


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